Portals
by cornwallace
Summary: A love story.


It's right here that the phone begins to ring. Right here, with the cold barrel pressed against the skin where my neck meets the back of my chin. Wondering how badly it will hurt as I thumb the hammer back, but that goddamn phone won't stop ringing.

Finally, I set the pistol down and pick up the receiver, unaware exactly what I'm getting myself into.

* * *

><p>Three...<p>

Two...

One...

* * *

><p>"Let us begin," she says, her back turned to me, pouring my shot of whiskey out of view, "with a toast to what isn't and could never have been."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Portals<strong>  
><em>A love story.<em>

* * *

><p>You're the boss, I tell her as she turns around.<p>

What exactly have I gotten myself into?  
>Why I even agreed to this is beyond me. Beyond reason in general.<p>

"So," she says, turning to me with that plastic smile on your face. Handing my glass. So cute, in a bullshit sort of way that I've only recently been able to recognize. "How have you been?"

"I've been good," I respond, eyes catching a glimpse of her tits on their way to my drink. "I've been pretty awesome, really."

"How's your love life?" she asks, weakly smiling at me. I can't see it, but I know she is. I just swirl the whiskey around the tumbler.

"Are you asking me if I'm getting my dick wet?"

Take a hit from the glass. Savor the burning sensation. Close my eyes and visualize the sped up decay of a fairly small elephant next to the skeleton of its mother. Swallow. Don't ask of such things, they just occur.

"Did it ever occur to you that there's more to life than sticking your cock in things?"

"Did it ever occur to you that been there, done that, could have bought a T-Shirt, didn't it find worth the wasted coin?"

"I can't say I've ever thought of that. I guess you win."

"I always do, baby," I say, knocking back the rest of the whiskey in my glass and setting it on the counter.  
>"I always do."<p>

She smirks at me and offers me another one.  
>But something is up. Something is always up with her.<p>

"I'm dizzy. What's the damn deal, here?"

"What are you implying?" she asks, smile stretching across her stupid, plastic, stupid, dumb face.

"Did you poison my drink again, bitch?"

"Sonic! Jesus. Why am I responsible for everything that goes bad in your life? I just exist, you know. The fact that your life sucks isn't my fault."

"What was it this time?"

"I think it started with an H," she says, bringing her finger up to her mouth, dumbly. "Or was it a P? X? Shit, I dunno. Supposed to put you right out. No big."

Sigh.  
>"What are you gonna do this time?"<p>

"Now, now!" she says, gasping. "We wouldn't want to spoil the fun, would we?"

"Shut up and tell me," I demand firmly, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Cut your crap. This crap. Yours. Cut it out. Seriously."

"How in god's name are you still standing?"

"Maaaaaaaan," I say, fishing a smoke out of my jacket pocket. "I take a lot of sedatives."

"I knew you were a junkie, Sonic, but Jesus. I put enough in there to drop a rabid mule."

"Hey, now," I tell her, waving my finger at the Amy on the left. Squinting left eye to focus on her, kinda. "You don't, uh. You don't. Uh. Man, I'm wasted. This is some pretty good shit. Where'd you get this shit?"

"Oh, Sonic. Just shut the fuck up and pass out already. Pretty please?"

"I think I'm gonna go for a walk, Amy. It's a nice day."

"It's three in the morning."

"So?"

"You're locked in, Sonic," she says, hands planted firmly on her hips. "You're not going anywhere."

"Fucking bitch."

"More whiskey?"

"Nah."

"Do you wanna fuck?

"Uh, no thanks," I tell her.

"You know you like it."

Ugh.  
>A shiver runs through my spine.<p>

"Please, don't ever remind me that we. Uh. Bumped uglies."

"Oh, Sonic," she says, cocking her head to the right. "That's such an icky way to put it."

"I think that's about accurate, Amy."

"Prick."

"Mhm," I squeak out, sliding down the counter.

I think I'm pissing myself.

"You're fucking disgusting, Sonic."

My question is, did I say that out loud, or did she simply notice me pissing myself? Either one is a possibility.

Why do you consider such things?

Close my eyes.

"You know what, Amy?" I say, curling up into a little ball on her kitchen floor.

"What's that, Sonic?"

"What's what?"

"Jesus. You're fucking stupid."

"Hey, could you turn the light off?"

"Fucking hopeless."

"Yeah, yeah. whatever. A pillow would be nice, too, you stingy bitch."

"You know you're going to die tomorrow, right? Like, you know that, right?"

"Does that mean I'm stuck with you for the rest of my life?"

"Duh, retard," she says sighing. "I'm going to kill you. How fucking dumb are you?"

"Maaaaaaaaan," I say, drool running down my face. "That's gay. I don't want the last thing I think about to be you."

I can feel her foot connecting with my back. Who the fuck cares?

I'm just gonna pass out for awhile, du.

Fuck it.

Peace.

* * *

><p>Enclosed space.<br>Hard to breathe.

Hands cuffed behind my back. I'm in the trunk of Amy's junker. I can tell by the rumbling.

Fucking bitch.  
>Let's see what we got here.<br>Knees against my face, I force my arms around my legs and dig through my jacket pockets. Bitch took my gun, obviously. My wallet. A pack of gum from my left pocket and the cigarettes from my right. Of course she takes my fucking cigarettes.

The real question is, where are we going?

As if on cue, the car stops and the engine dies. Door opens. Door slaps. Footsteps. Keys jingle. Trying to jam it in the hole. Success. Turn. Trunk opens. Hi, Amy.

"Hi, Amy."

She looks down at me with a sickening disapproval. Snowflakes melting on her plastic face as they make contact. The trees framing her, bare and withered.

"Why does it have to come down to this over and over again?"

"I dunno. Why do you keep doing this?"

"Oh, Sonic. It's just fucking like you to always play the victim, isn't it?"

"Well, uh. I am kind of the victim. I mean, look at me. In the back of your trunk." I wave, weakly. "Handcuffed."

"What the fuck ever, Sonic. What the fuck ever."

"I guess it's because I'm such a charming fella?" Smile at her, widely.

She draws my pistol from her coat pocket and points it at me. "Get out of the fucking vehicle."

"Jesus, fine," I tell her, struggling my way out of the trunk. I fall out into the cold snow, face first.

Weakly push myself up onto my knees with my cuffed hands. Snow sticking to my clothes in a fine white coat. She looks down at me, disapprovingly.

"Do I get a last request, or anything like that?"

"Sure don't."

I sigh.  
>Hang my head in shame.<p>

"Baby, I'm sorry."

"No you aren't," she says, thumbing the hammer back.

"No," I say, getting to my feet and making eye contact with her instead of staring at her ultimately invaluable knockers for once. "I really am sorry."

"I don't-"

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," I say, dipping backwards to gain a bit more momentum before dashing my forehead into her face. A trail of blood follows her broken nose back down to the ground, staining the white blanket red and darkening her pink jacket. The gun goes off just by my leg, and I don't move. I don't flinch. I merely wait for it to escape her grasp, so I can bend over and pick it up, as she tries in vain to stop her face from leaking. "I really am."

"Fuck you," she says.

"My, how the tables have turned."

"You just love seeing me cry, don't you?" she asks through her blood soaked gloves. "Does this make your dick hard, or something?"

"I think I feel it starting to tingle," I say sarcastically.

"You're a sick fuck."

"Yeah, possibly. Now, do me a favor, would you, darling?"

"Fuck you," she spits.

"Toss my cigarettes over there," I tell her, pointing to a safe location.

She digs them out of her jacket pocket and throws them. "Asshole."

"Thanks, sweetie," I tell her, before unloading the pistol into her legs. Her screams echoing throughout the surrounding, dead forest. Shrieks piercing my eardrums as molten lead tears through the fur and tender flesh on her legs.

"YOU FUCKER!" she spits. "YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"

"I'm sorry," I say again.

I find myself apologizing more and more these days, when I should be apologizing less and less.

Some people just don't get it and never will. For some reason, I feel the need to raise my hand. I drop the gun and approach her, walking around her body to her head and lifting her up against me.

"You wouldn't happen to have the key, would you?"

"I threw it out," she says, trying to struggle away from me unsuccessfully. "I didn't think I'd ever need it again."

"Of course," I say, dragging her backwards towards the trunk of her car. Limp feet digging bloody trenches in the snow in our wake. "You know what the fastest way to disintegrate a body is? I heard somewhere the SSPD confirmed this.

"What's that?" she sighs.

Back touches the bumper of her car. Turn her around and stuff her roughly into the trunk. She squeals as she knocks her head heard against the door before falling limply into place. Legs still hanging out, I stuff the rest of her into the trunk with little effort as she grunts and whines.

I should have done this years ago.

"I'm an old man, now, Amy."

"You're twenty three. You're not old. You're stupid, is what you are."

"I'm too old for this shit," I say, sighing in exhaustion. "I can't keep doing this with you. You aren't worth it. I should have figured this out a loooong time ago."

"But do you really have to destroy me?"

"How else will I get you the fuck away from me? You're like the clap. As long as you exist, you'll keep popping up and making my pee burn. I don't want burning pee."

"You could just-"

"I DON'T WANT MY PEE TO BURN, AMY. FUCKING LISTEN."

"I'm not THAT bad. You make me look worse than I am."

"I could kick your goddamn teeth in right now," I mumble. "I swear."

"What was that?"

"Fastest way to disintegrate a body? Any idea?"

"No, dumbass," she sighs. "I already said that."

"Burn it in the trunk of a car with a spare tire. And oh, looky. That motherfucker was killing my back the whole time I was back there."

"Sonic, please don't do this."

"Too late," I say. "This has to be done."

Start to close the trunk.

"Why do you hate me so much, Sonic?" her plastic face sobs out. "Why do you make me out to be such a monster?"

"I don't hate you, Amy. I just feel better when you're not around. And you won't leave me alone."

"You're just..." you say, causing me to pause for a moment. "You're just such a goddamn easy target. What else am I gonna do? I mean, look at you. You're fat, pathetic, and stupid. You sit around and do drugs and fuck people in your 'spare time'. You're easy and you have no rhythm."

"Just because I can't fucking dance..." Grumble. Sigh. "I suppose you have a good point."

"So, are you gonna let me off the hook?" she asks, smiling and winking at me. Popping her cleavage out a little.

"I'll think about it," I say, slamming the trunk as hard as I can. "Gimme a minute."

"Hey!"  
>Her muffled cries barely escape the back of the vehicle.<br>"What if I come back?"

What IF she comes back.

Good question.

I laugh and make my way over to my smokes. My yellow plastic lighter sitting amongst the last three cigarettes. Dig it and one of the sticks out before stuffing it into the corner of my mouth and lighting it. Hands still cuffed together.

It's gonna be a long night.

Pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and make my way over to the back of the car on the left side. Force the gas can off and light one side of the hanky on fire. Quickly stuff the other side into the tank, plugging the opening.

Inhale.  
>Time to get out of here. Now.<p>

Turn and jog my way in the sun's general direction. As soon as I hear explosions, my body spins around like a dradel to see my handiwork. The whole car on fire, her screams barely audible over the roars of the flames.

My heart skips a beat.

I plop down on my ass and smoke my cigarette.

What kinda man would I be if I didn't sit here and watch the fucker burn? Not half the man I am right now, I'll tell you that fucking much.

With some difficulty, I manage to unbutton my pants. Forcing the zipper down, I stuff my freezing, gloved hands down into my underwear until my finger stumbles across my sopping-wet cloaca.

This one goes out to you, Ames, I say out loud as I jam the roughly clothed, cold, wet finger into my reproductive hole and begin to furiously masturbate, my screams echoing throughout the woods, masking yours, even.

I'm the further and further I get from reality, the more everything seems to make sense.

As I cum all over my hands, I think about what she said to me.

Her last words.

"What if I come back?"

She'll come back. Of that, I'm pretty sure. She'll come back and we'll either fight or we'll fuck. Probably both.

But nothing of value will ever get accomplished. We'll just feel a mixture of pleasure and pain and hate each other for it.

In this universe of mine, nothing is ever truly over. Just at bay.

I scream, for some reason. Perhaps I'll never know why.


End file.
